


Supervision

by KittyCarmine



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyCarmine/pseuds/KittyCarmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploratory after-hours assignment with accessories. Mentions of Eric only. Written for Reaper Kink Meme prompt: Alan/Anyone, anal plug</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supervision

He should have paid more attention to Eric. His ex-mentor/partner/fairly new lover, had clearly known _something_ to have worn such an odd expression earlier and now Alan's jaw ached, his thighs ached, his arms certainly ached but all the above was nothing compared to the overarching ache to touch, to be touched, and oh _please_! Just let him, let him-  
  
"Honestly."  
  
As sensual as a snowstorm, the shock of ice in his superior's tone calmed him down enough not to squeak when a leather gloved grip forced his chin up and left him looking directly at William's classically handsome face. Impossible to tell his true age. Alan had thought he knew a trick or two when it came to the bedroom but right now he was very much the acolyte.  
  
"You are perfectly aware of procedures. Do you require I desist?"  
  
Alan went to speak but the hard ball in his mouth rotated in the gag, blocking all sensible sound. He improvised, shaking his head so vigorously his face flushed with shame when he realised how eager he must look.  
  
"Amateur."  
  
The slap to his backside was backhanded but still strong enough Alan was sure he would have stitch marks to show for it when he got back to Eric. Eric... Oh gods. He really couldn't think about Eric else he would be done. Better to think of how much scorn Spears, _Spears_ impersonal not William too familiar, could pour into a single word. Anything other than sensation right now.  
  
Wondering where in the realms they were would be a good start. The décor gave nothing away, although the room's... accoutrements required a certain discerning taste. Or a willingness to have one's ankles shackled to either side of a bar while one's crossed wrists were bound, pulled overhead and tethered to the sturdy bed's crossbar. Alan wasn't sure if pyramidal or priapic was the most suitable adjective for him right now. Oh, second option, certain _needs_ were really quite insistent.  
  
It was as well as he was held upright as when Spears took him in hand Alan felt rather weak at the knees. It was instinct to sway slightly into that rhythm, most of the friction from skin sliding over hard flesh while the leather made this feel even naughtier.  
  
"Reaper Humphries, you are making a mess of my glove."  
  
Alan blinked then looked down to see Spears pressing thumb and index finger together then slowly pulling those digits apart to show a sticky strand of clear fluid. Alan suddenly didn't know where to look so dropped his gaze to the floor and tried to squash the mad impulse to kiss the shine off Spears' shoes.  
  
Cold, so cold, so unfair to remain fully dressed when he was burning up. Even worse to leave him stranded here to take a few steps away, but Spears had taken off his gloves so Alan supposed he would let him off. William had beautiful hands. Almost manicured if distance and lust weren't playing tricks with his vision and- Oh no.  
  
Spears had not returned empty handed. Oh, no, no. Alan made another noise behind his gag because oh no, my dear, one really does not...  
  
"I had expected more decorum. Your current conduct is reminiscent of that wretch."  
  
Thinking Alan would have noticed the dry amusement but Alan the wanting was shamelessly nuzzling the hand held near his face and hinting with a few pointed thrusts of his hips that yes, he would very much like to play with these new toys, and yes, he would be a good boy, just, could he?  
  
Ah...  
  
Alan's eyes slit shut and his mouth curled up as well as it was able. He was even willing to put up with the coldness of the lube without complaint because it was accompanied by a press, press, pause, press and then the wonderful give when his body accepted the plug and started to stretch around it. Mmm, yes, this was nice. This was a good ache.  
  
Particularly when Spears gave the base a sharp tap and it knocked on a spot which set off sparks of pleasure and caused a very happy Alan to groan while his knees to buckled.  
  
Eyes bright, Alan nodded enthusiastically when Spears hooked his finger through the set of joined rings and quirked a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him. Enthusiasm couldn't quite quell mild panic when Spears _slowly_ set the device in place around his aching cock and that final ring snicked shut. Oh no. No, this was shameful so no. No. Yessss....  
  
Helpless, he was helpless, and now looked even more like a low class rent boy tarting extra tricks for trade. In front of _his boss_ , no less. Alan was terrible, wicked, needed to be corrected- Oh gods, this was his BOSS! What would happen if word got out?! His Reputation! He was supposed to be exemplary! What if Eric's name got dragged through the mire too? Alan would wreck everyth-  
  
"Humphries!"  
  
Alan whimpered, not at all reassured by the sharp tone or by being stared at like a specimen sample.  
  
"Overwrought. I shall block your vision. Consent?"  
  
So false. Alan nodded and let his head hang. A blindfold might be nice right now. Hide his stupid, gullible face from the reaper in _management_ who now had perfect blackmail set in store for a future day. Alan wondered if _this_ was how William T. Spears rose through the ranks so quickly when something very light fell over his head and shoulders.  
  
He panicked. Thrashing about to try to shake free while only vaguely aware of a stern call of his name, then a bark of his first name, only his first name, which shocked him back into some sort of sense.  
  
Alan blinked. Not that it did much good when one's vision was restricted by black silk. A hood, ok, could deal with a hood. As a reaper breath was a secondary concern anyway so no problems there but gods, his heart was racing.  
  
"Still acceptable?"  
  
Actually, staying hidden sounded ok.... He didn't have to think about how he looked under here. Hesitantly, he gave a nod, demonstrating when asked that yes, he could still make the agreed sign if he wanted this to stop, then when asked again he confirmed with another shy nod that yes, he wanted to continue.  
  
Sometimes it felt so good to give in without a struggle.  
  
Alan's sigh when properly touched was almost dreamy. Bare hands. Actual skin to skin contact while hands travelled over his thighs, down the hollows behind his knees, clinical touches down the curve of his calves while Spears presumably checked for excessive muscle tension. This wasn't a stress position. It was all perfectly calculated. ...William T. Spears was. so. cold!  
  
"Hm."  
  
Alan must have made a noise of disapproval while thinking of a particular mix to which he had become accustomed, a blend of a rough touches with tender words, because suddenly his ankles were being released and then rubbed before his wrists were also set free.  
  
He stood there confused for a moment, flexing fingers to get circulation back, before a firm hand pressed the centre of his chest. Alan caught on, reaching behind him to confirm where the edge of the mattress was and climbed on, folding his legs under him to kneel with knees parted.  
  
"Wider. Hands on your knees. Sit on them if you must."  
  
He obeyed, breath hitching when the movement felt like it pushed the plug further in. Then, nothing. Nothing for the longest time. Nothing except his pulse pounding in his ears and a slow dawning realisation of _exactly_ how he must look.  
  
A second later he gave a startled cry when a hand _he couldn't see_ reached between his legs, cupped, fondled and caressed him. Alan was so far gone he didn't realise he had been gently tugged down until the metal rings around member were loosened and slipped off. Rational thought gone, Alan outright thrust into the other's hand.  
  
"P-patience."  
  
Did Spears stutter? Wait a moment, where was the brush of cloth he was expecting from the suited reaper's sleeve? Was William topless?!  
  
Alan's hand was on the hem of his hood before another request left him wide-eyed, too dumbstruck to even move before he gave a low drawn out groan. He really wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.  
  
He was good. He didn't look. Even when Spears' hand started being _very_ distracting and he wasn't the only ragged breather in the room. His boss knew what he was doing. Each touch was tantalising and never quite enough.  
  
The world collapsed when Alan was given permission to get himself off. He barely registered the hand slipping up under the hood to free him of his gag as his own hands had darted straight for his lap, the frustrating stop-start from earlier having obliterated all thoughts on what and why, and left him with only how, and _now_ and-  
  
Oh throw him in the Lethe now, did that really just happen? Alan collapsed backwards to the mattress, gasping and making no effort at all to gather his scattered thoughts. He was perfectly content to drift along on the aftershocks of pleasure, thank you. So kind of Spears to offer a cloth for annoying wet warmth slow dripping down Alan's... chest?  
  
Oh. Yes. Ahem. Eric may have a penchant for jewellery but a pearl necklace wasn't part of his collection. Alan shifted uncomfortably, suddenly shy about _that_ other toy being removed in front of his boss and relieved to hear sounds of Spears washing. Alan would just hide under here for a while, and maybe have the ground swallow him whole while he waited.  
  
"Facilities for bathing are available through the door to your right. I shall return before dawn. Goodnight."  
  
The words pulled him back from a light doze and although there was now nothing stopping him talking he didn't make a sound until he heard the door open then close.  
  
Alan pulled off his hood and let his arm drop with a dull thud on the mattress, confused, spent, and oddly guilty. A moment or two later he pushed himself upright and staggered off to wash. He wouldn't stay. He wanted Eric.


End file.
